


Patched up in the dark

by clottedcreamfudge



Series: Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [10]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e05 Dust and Shadows, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, M/M, Stargazing, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge
Summary: It turns out Alec is exactly where Magnus had expected him to be, but if he’s shocked to see the warlock stepping out of a shimmering rift and onto the roof of the Institute, nothing shows on his face. His bow is aimed steadily in another direction, out towards where Magnus had seen those first night sky explosions, and the string is pulled back taut, ready to fire another nocked arrow into the ether.Magnus can see the blood welling up between Alec’s steady fingers from here.➼It isn't Jace who finds Alec on the roof.(Alternate beginning to s2e5 - Dust and Shadows)
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170269
Comments: 38
Kudos: 197





	Patched up in the dark

Magnus’s glass is empty, but he finds himself in no hurry to replenish its contents. The crystal dangles loosely from his left hand, his head tilted back idly towards the sky; there’s not much to see past the non-stop lights of a Brooklyn night, but the odd star makes an effort, blinking in and out of existence on the edge of Magnus’s vision.

He knows what happened at the Institute. He’s trying not to think about it too hard, knowing it will only bring him an image he doesn’t want to see; Alec, as broken as his voice had been on the phone, desperate to be absolved in some way, even though there’s nothing to forgive. Even though it wasn’t _him_. Alexander, who will shoulder the weight of the world with nothing to show for it but a slight furrow of his brow and tensing of his jaw.

Magnus looks at the stars and wonders if he should be getting in this deep with a man so intent on ruining himself for the sake of others. Not that he has much choice in the matter, he muses, eyes flitting lazily across the sky; considering what he _should_ do in any given situation has never been his forte, and Alexander is certainly a weak point for him.

His eyes snag on a bright flash over the distant skyscrapers and he blinks back to himself with a jolt. He watches, more alert now, and sees flash after flash appear in the distance; not stars, but something he has an unfortunate feeling he recognises, nonetheless.

“Alexander,” he breathes. So, _this_ is how he’s dealing with things. Magnus’s heart aches in his chest, but he ignores it, banishing his glass and getting to his feet with purpose. He opens a portal to the Institute, making an educated guess as to where exactly he’ll find Alec torturing himself, and steps through a moment later; he can only hope Alec’s not shocked enough by his arrival to shoot at _him._

It turns out Alec is exactly where Magnus had expected him to be, but if he’s shocked to see the warlock stepping out of a shimmering rift and onto the roof of the Institute, nothing shows on his face. His bow is aimed steadily in another direction, out towards where Magnus had seen those first night sky explosions, and the string is pulled back taut, ready to fire another nocked arrow into the ether. 

Magnus can see the blood welling up between Alec’s steady fingers from here. 

“The thing about target practice,” Magnus says softly, “is that it usually helps to have a target.” Alec glances at him then lets the arrow loose; it explodes dramatically a fair distance away, and Magnus has to wonder how many mundanes with the sight will be confused by this lacklustre firework display.

“Why are you here, Magnus?” Alec asks, and he’s not lowering his bow, but he’s not nocking another arrow yet either. Only his face is turned toward Magnus, eyes guarded, and there’s nothing in his stance that says this is going to be an easy conversation.

“I could see you punishing yourself from the loft, darling,” he says lightly, and Alec lowers his bow to his side so he can turn and frown at Magnus more fully; like Magnus shouldn’t be here, calling him out while he’s making himself bleed all over the Institute’s rooftop.

“I can’t be in there right now,” Alec says eventually, and his voice is low, but it carries the same weight of responsibility as it always does. Magnus takes a step towards him, then another when Alec shows no sign of trying to stop him. He’s close enough to touch now, so he does, wrapping his fingers around the wrist of Alec’s free hand and pulling it towards him to inspect. Alec doesn’t make a sound when Magnus brushes a thumb over the blistering on his palms and fingers, but the slight tremor that goes through him at the touch tells Magnus everything he needs to know.

“I understand, you know,” he says, still inspecting the wounds with the utmost care. “More than you realise. But hurting yourself won’t make you feel any better - not in the long-run. And this is coming from someone who’s had a much _longer_ long-run than most.” Alec huffs out a breath at that; it’s not laughter - not quite - but it’s something. 

The damage Alec’s done to his hands is severe, which doesn’t track with how few flashes Magnus had seen in the sky before coming here. He has to assume, therefore, that Alec switched to exploding arrows after the usual ones didn’t give off an appropriate level of angst. And people say _he’s_ dramatic.

“I killed her.” Alec sounds resigned, like this is a phrase he’s been mulling over in his head since it happened; like a demon didn’t worm its way into his body and _use_ him.

“No,” Magnus says firmly, “you didn’t. That was the demon. Do you blame Raj for what he tried to do to Lydia?” Something flickers across Alec’s face - the ghost of a smile, his mouth barely even turning up at one corner. “Bad example,” Magnus concedes, and Alec’s exhalation of breath is a little more amused this time. Hope, fragile and gossamer thin, blooms in Magnus’s chest. “It wasn’t you, Alexander. You were used, and you have to live with the consequences - it’s not fair, but life and death so rarely are. I think you’ve punished yourself enough.”

Magnus brings dancing sparks to his fingertips and Alec doesn’t try to stop him when he pushes cool, blue magic into his hand, blisters and cuts knitting together beneath drying blood.

“There,” he says, running his fingers across the skin in spite of the blood. “Much better.”

“Can you take me with you? To the loft, I mean,” Alec asks quietly, as though Magnus wouldn’t take him to _Bermuda_ if he even so much as hinted that he wanted to go there. “I really just… I can’t, Magnus.” He looks wrecked, and Magnus wants to believe it’s just what’s happened in the last 48 hours, but he knows it’s not; it’s _everything._ Alec lives with this weight on his shoulders, just carries it around like it’s normal and okay to feel responsible for everyone the way he does.

“Hey,” Magnus says soothingly, pulling Alec in with a little tug and breathing a little easier when he goes with the motion, practically falling into Magnus’s arms with a hitching sigh; his bow clatters to the ground but they both ignore it. “You are always welcome wherever I am, Alec.” Alec’s arms tightening around him feel like a thank you. 

Nothing’s really been fixed here tonight, but maybe they can work together on the rest of it; Magnus finds himself believing that this particular Lightwood might be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this fluff? Arguably not, though they do hug - you have to give me that, at least. This fic is entirely tintagel's fault, since I was originally going to do a kid!fic where Magnus and Alec teach Max constellations, but then I made the mistake of asking for her thoughts and then - well. Angst happened. As it so OFTEN does.  
> Prompt 10 is done! Stargazing in the loosest sense of the word.


End file.
